


Coming and Going

by clari_clyde



Category: The Eagle (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-21
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clari_clyde/pseuds/clari_clyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esca and Marcus get hot and heavy on the road — no really, <em>on</em> the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming and Going

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kink meme request for [Esca / Marcus — canon, public sex](http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/2132.html?thread=2317652).
> 
> Also archived at: [http://pinktisane.com/fanfic/coming-and-going/](http://pinktisane.com/fanfic/wisteria/)

Clack, clack. Clack, clack. The horse trots on and Marcus wonders why it has never felt this way before with the rough tunic rubbing against his skin and the saddle bumping him so. It definitely never has looked this way with Esca leading, his own saddle bumping him the same.

Perhaps last night Marcus should have discouraged Esca from bargaining down the price of the room at the inn so low for when they arrived at their very small room, they found only a narrow, single cot and a window with no shutters. “If you have no problems camping in the wild, you’ll have no problems camping in here,” the innkeeper said with a scowl. So they slept together — huddled together with many layers of clothes and blankets keeping them from the winter chill and each other. In that way they slept last night, under the window sucking away whatever heat there was between the two of them.

“Can’t keep up?” Esca calls out over his shoulder. “Should I set a slower — ” He pulls the reins back to pause for a moment but then is off again with a nudge with his heels. Clack-clack clack-clack clack-clack.

Marcus follows, thoughts focused on moving his hips with the horse and eyes focused on Esca. Despite his efforts though, he can’t keep still enough the rest his body and the faster trot has him feeling rubbed and bumped even more furiously. Perhaps the braccae of rough fabric were also a bad idea.

At the next milestone, Esca hitches the horses to it and as Marcus gets off his, Esca pulls him to push him down to the road to climb on him. Then he takes Marcus’ dagger and places it into Marcus’ right hand.

“Esca! What are you doing?”

“Your eyes are dark.” Esca brings his face closer to Marcus’ to gaze. “And the twinkle in them tells me it’s not dreariness.”

“But we can’t; not here; not on the road; people will see . . . Not like this; I wanted to first explore slowly . . . ” Marcus’ thoughts fade as Esca begins to explore him.

“Here. Now. With me.” Esca’s fingers grip Marcus’ hair. “And not in the woods . . . ” A kiss on Marcus’ lips. “Passers by wouldn’t see us . . . ” A kiss on Marcus’ neck. “But bandits could look for us.” His legs between Marcus’. “And we wouldn’t see them.” Another kiss on Marcus’ neck. “So out here, out in the open.” A suckle where the last kiss was. “And keep your eyes open.” A grind against Marcus’ hips. All this as Esca’s fingers never lose their grip.

Marcus should keep his eyes on the road. Really he knows this truly — what a way to die, at the hands of robbers and thieves while consumed by the heat of passion at Esca’s hands. Such a torturous distraction, to worry about such things, as he would rather worry about what Esca is doing to him.

Marcus can feel the blood rushing to the surface of his skin where Esca’s lips have settled; he can feel wanting the life force of his blood to flow into Esca as he feels as if he were sinking into the ground. But a bite shocks the awareness of vulnerability back into him, brings his attention and awareness back to the road that disappears into the mist too soon for comfort.

Yet as Marcus feels Esca’s hands wander down from his shoulders, down the sides of his back, finally reaching his behind, he wonders what it would feel like to feel the alternating between the cool, swirling air versus the warmth of Esca’s hands on his bare and tender behind. But just as he is about to close his eyes to imagine, a pinch reddens his cheeks and he feels shamed to mind the road under the white atmosphere of fog and mist that conceals dark figures so well.

But the grinding; oh the grinding. Marcus can feel the bulge in Esca’s pants growing and he’s sure Esca must have seen his own already bulged out before laying down on the ground with him. It’s so warm, he can feel his own heat building and Esca’s too through the fabric and it would feel so much hotter with their clothes off, hotter than even the winter air can cool. Since Esca’s first thrust of his hips, Marcus has wanted to squeeze his thighs and wrap an arm around Esca to press him closer, to lose himself in Esca’s embrace. But he musn’t, absolutely musn’t. Must keep on the lookout . . .

Clack-clack, clack clack, clack, clack, clack, clack.

“Who is it?” Esca pinches again.

“Um . . . ” Marcus jerks up and tries to lift his head off the ground to get a clearer look, squinting at the figures emerging from the soft, white wall to make out a horse walking their way and a wagon and its driver behind it. “It looks like a wagon at the forum yesterday? It picked up the correspondence from the building where we turned in the eagle.”

“Should be fine, he’ll be minding his cargo,” Esca says, still grinding and grabbing at the man under him. “Still, keep your grip on the dagger.”

The wagon driver’s eyes are wide and his mouth pressed to a straight line but he still gives a slow wave at the two men in front of him — one of them anyways.

Marcus tries to raise his arm to wave back. But, oh, his arm drops as Esca nibbles on an ear.

Pinch! Marcus feels that on his behind and looks up. Of course, there’s the wagon driver — a driver whose eyes are still wide while his horse plods on; in their direction; towards them; even with the driver’s eyes still wide open.

“Please don’t step on us!”

“Oh!” There’s a sharp jerk of one of the reins and the horse changes course slightly. “I’m sorry!”

Marcus would assure the man, “It’s all right now,” really he would. Except Esca now has his hands between them. One hand pinches a nipple through rough fabric and the tingle and tension go straight to Marcus’ groin adding to the tension already there. And Esca’s other hand is down there, working himself but Marcus can feel the knuckles kneading up and down his length. He wonders if the skin between his thighs is red and raw; it must be if it burns so easy with Esca’s every thrust. The feeling spreads to his groin where it and the tension build and warm and grow until Marcus finally closes his eyes and releases — into a warm, sticky puddle inside his braccae.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. When Marcus opens his eyes, he notices the wagon about to reach them. Is the horse . . . walking slower? He also notices his legs wrapped around the other’s, his one arm wrapped around the other’s waist and his other palm pressing the dagger’s handle into Esca’s back between the shoulders. As he begins to loosen his own embrace —

“Don’t let go!” Esca is still thrusting and grinding. Though he is now letting out a torrent of grunts until one last particularly loud grunt with a spasm of his hips and finally placing one last suckle on Marcus’ neck, a strong one; one that Marcus knows will leave a mark for the better part of the next week.

After rolling off Marcus, Esca turns his head to watch the wagon plod away into the distance. He and Marcus lie there, languid as if it were gentle waves under a warm, soft pad under them instead of the cold, stone road.

“Esca?” Marcus turns his head to him. “We have only one dagger between us.”

“So we do.”

“You shouldn’t have left yours at the pyre.”

“You left your little, wooden eagle there. It seemed right.”

“Yes. It did.” Marcus agrees. “It’s just that . . . Both of us should have daggers and I’ll buy you a new one but . . . ” Marcus frowns. “That dagger was important to you and I don’t even remember how I got this one and — ” Marcus takes in a deep breath. “No other dagger will mean what _that one_ did.”

“You’re right . . . ” Esca turns his head to face Marcus with a smile. “Still, I know I want _that_ dagger.”

Marcus holds the dagger up over his face and tilts his head. There’s a slight jolt of air into his chest and his face lights up as he realizes he has in his hand the only protection they had as they first tried being together, and where all the world could see. He reaches over to place the dagger from his hand into Esca’s, lets his hand linger over the dagger and other hand. Smiling, he says —

“All yours.”

❀

After some more milestones with the horses walking toward the next one, Marcus and Esca spot a familiar wagon next to it, tilting to and fro until they finally get close enough to hear “Ugh! Ugh! Ooohhh,” in time with the wagon’s movements.

“Well.” Esca smirks. “Good to know we entertained someone.”

“I hope there isn’t any important correspondence in there.” Marcus’ cheeks grow pink.

“Probably news of the eagle is in there on its way to Calleva . . . ” Esca laughs. “And to Rome.”

“Let’s go faster.” Marcus’ cheeks are now a deep red. “I’d like to get home before the news does.” With a nudge of his heels, the horse goes faster. Clack-clack clack-clack.

“Yes, let’s get to town faster. Before all the inns run out of vacancies. I’ll ask for a better room this time.” Esca nudges his horse faster breezing past Marcus. “You might or might not come faster at that pace.” Esca smirks again, this time at Marcus behind him. Clack-clack-clack. Clack-clack-clack.

“I suppose he’s right,” Marcus muses to himself. Nudging his horse to pick up the pace, he settles into the rolling motion after Esca. 


End file.
